Accessories of Epic Hotness
by dharmamonkey
Summary: An accessory is defined as an item that completes one's look. For Booth & Brennan, accessories not only contribute to a look, but can also set them off. A series of completely unrelated one-shots for your reading pleasure.
1. The Fedora

**Accessories of Epic Hotness**

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**By:** dharmamonkey & Lesera128

**Rated: **M

**Disclaimer: **_Is anyone still reading these things? Of course, we include one with every story, more to amuse ourselves than anything. But, just in case anyone else gets a kick out of our pithy witticisms, here goes. Prepare for an excited utterance: WE OWN NOTHING. We still wish we did. We suspect many of our readers still wish we did, too. But, alas, we're just poor paupers who jacked you know who's __Bones __sandbox. Heh. So there. _

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**Summary: **_An accessory is defined as an item that completes one's look. For Booth & Brennan, accessories not only contribute to a look, but can also set them off. A series of completely unrelated one-shots for your reading pleasure._

**A/N: **_Dharmasera, Inc. wanted to prove we could write chapters that weren't the size of Charles Dickens' weekly serials. We also have so many yummy images that inspire us in the __Bones __world. Hence this series was born. Sound interesting? Some may contain unfness, most will hint at it at the very least, if not actually deliver on something. There is no rhyme or reason to this piece aside from the fact that all chapters are self-contained one-shots, feature Booth, Brennan, and highlight an appropriate accessory. If that sounds good to you, then, read on..._

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**Chapter 1- The Fedora**

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It was raining the first time she saw him wearing it.

The spring twilight had a strange aspect to it. In some ways, the lingering sunlight and misting rain hinted at the hot and humid summers that would soon lay claim to the Chesapeake region. In other ways, the clinging tentacles of winter steadfastly refused to give up precedence to a season that was already half over. And, so, it was an odd mixture of weather that greeted Dr. Temperance Brennan as she stood on the steps in front of the J. Edgar Hoover Building in Washington D.C. She'd received a call from Booth that another body had been found near a campground in Greenbelt Park, about eight miles into Maryland from D.C. proper. Since she'd been on her way from the lab to meet him at the diner for a late dinner anyway, Brennan had agreed to wait from him in front of the Hoover.

Glancing at her watch, Brennan saw that Booth had obviously been delayed since his military punctuality usually assured his timely arrival unless he was waylaid by other people. As the sun began to dip below the horizon, the sky was cloaked with heavy gunmetal grey nimbus clouds that threatened to deluge their crime scene. Brennan's brow furrowed as she worried that evidence might be destroyed. However, as a stiff breeze came rumbling down Pennsylvania Avenue—in a way that was more suited to chilling drafts rolling in off of Lake Michigan, Brennan thought, in her expert opinion as a pseudo-native of Chicago—she couldn't help but shiver. The temperature was a bit cooler than she expected, and as the misting rain dampened her clothing, she cursed herself for foolishly leaving her burgundy trench coat in her office. She hadn't taken it since she figured she'd only be gone an hour at the most before she returned to the lab to work some more after dinner.

Clutching her fingers around the fleshy part of her upper arms, she began to stamp her feet in a way to make the damp seem a bit less chilling and as a way to make time pass faster.

Although she didn't believe such a thing were possible, she'd only been shivering for a minute or two when she heard him call out her name.

"Hey, Bones!"

Brennan turned around and watched as her partner bounded down the steps of the Hoover Building two at a time.

"Hey, Booth," Brennan replied, trying to conjure a welcoming smile, but failing miserably in achieving anything better than making herself look like a bedraggled wet cat.

As Booth jogged down the steps, his face was plastered with the goofy kind of grin that left no doubt that he was already excited about their latest case. "Hell of a storm it looks like we're gonna get, huh?" he said, glancing up at the sky and then lowering his gaze to meet hers as he got to the bottom of the steps. As soon as he saw her, her hair damp and slightly frizzy from the rain, with a few of the wetter strands sticking to her temple as she tried to brush them away, he raised his eyebrows. "Hey," he said, unsure of what to say but quite certain that any comments that even remotely came across the wires sounding like 'What happened to you?' would make the wet streets the least of his problems on the drive to Greenbelt Park.

Brennan frowned for a moment, and then said, "I hope not. I'm hoping that perhaps the storm hasn't yet migrated into Maryland yet because you know how I hate it when my crime scenes are compromised."

"Yeah, Bones, well," Booth chuckled. "Even if you don't believe in Him, sometimes there's still nothing you can do about the whole Act of God thing. So, I just got a call and—" He stopped mid-sentence, and then frowned as he realized that Brennan was shivering. "Hey, wait. Where's your coat?"

He couldn't help but notice that her ivory-colored knit sweater with its scooped neckline and cap sleeves left her arms and upper chest totally exposed to the drizzling rain, beads of which already dotted her fair skin. As his eyes skimmed along the length of her arm and saw the goosebumps on her arms which she had loosely crossed in front of her belly, he noted another sign that she was freezing.

The damp sweater stuck to her skin and her nipples were peeking through the fabric in a very obvious way. Booth blinked and furrowed his brow as he scrambled for a non-obvious way to look away without it being too blatant that he was trying not to look at her chest, which he was sure would leave no doubt that he had, in fact, been looking at her chest. He nibbled the inside of his lip for a moment and licked his lips, then realized what he had just done and tried to recover by holding the tip of his tongue between his lips, struggling not to wince as he tried not to look directly at her chest, but the harder he tried not to look at her chest, the more he found himself unable to think about anything else other than the incredibly delicious way the fabric of her top clung to every minute curve and bump on her nipples. He swallowed and glanced down at his crotch, relieved that he had buttoned up his trench coat in the elevator so that his sudden interest in the fit of her knit top, and his body's immediate and increasingly firm response, wasn't obvious to anyone but him.

"At the lab," she said. "I didn't think I'd need it since it was so warm earlier today, and I thought I'd only be at the diner for an hour."

"Bones," he said, cocking his head to the side and pouting his lips sympathetically as he blinked away the temptation to wrap his arms around her and hold her against his chest to warm her up. A tugging sensation low in his belly reminded him why that was not a good idea. "You're freezing," he said.

Quickly, Booth began to unbutton the front of his beige trenchcoat. As he began to shrug his arms out of the coat, Brennan saw that he was wearing a black pinstripe suit, a relatively standard white Oxford dress shirt, and a burgundy sateen necktie. When he shifted to pull the trenchcoat off his body, he tilted his head at just enough of an angle so that his dark brown eyes were barely visible under the brim of the black felt fedora that he wore.

"Here," he offered, slipping his arm out of the sleeve and handing her the coat in a single movement. "Take mine."

Slowly shaking her head, Brennan said, "No. That's not logical. It's still raining, and it would do us no good if you were to be incapacitated by the damp and rain, Booth."

"I've got my suit coat on, Bones," he reminded her, pushing the bunched-up coat towards her. "Come on, Bones. I'm good. Really."

Pursing her lips, she took on a stubborn look that Booth knew only too well—as it warned that Brennan was going to dig in her heels about the jacket. Her words confirmed his suspicions as she replied, "Thank you, but, no. I'm okay. I'm not taking your trenchcoat."

Booth stared at her for a long moment, and then shrugged his shoulders lightly. "Fine," he said, as he shifted the trench coat from one arm to the other, draping it over his forearm as he started to take off his black suit jacket. "Then, you're taking this one. I'll keep the trenchcoat. You wear my suit jacket. And we'll both be warm and spiffy on the ride out to Greenbelt, huh?"

Once he'd taken off the suit jacket, and quickly pulled the trenchcoat back over his muscular chest, he moved too quickly for Brennan. She wasn't really even certain what was happening as Booth reached out, pulled her to him, and started to touch her in a way that was anything but partner-like even though he'd invaded her personal space with no intention but to put the jacket on her. His hands slowed as he draped his jacket over her shoulders. For her part, Brennan shivered again. This time, however, it wasn't because of the weather. Instead, she felt a giddy lightheadedness as the warmth of his lingering body heat leapt from the silk lining of the coat onto her clammy skin. His smell—a mixture of sandalwood, menthol, and some sort of vaguely masculine body wash fragrance—washed over her in a sensory assault that made her knees start to wobble a bit. Instinctively, she reached out a hand to steady herself, grabbing his shoulder as she did so. Again, her reaction clearly caught him off-guard, and Booth thought she was going to politely but firmly remind him that she didn't like to be touched unless she made a clear invitation that a person could do so.

Still acutely aware of how tight the front of his trousers felt and absolutely certain that he didn't need her to discover that she wasn't the only one with sensitive body parts that had become erect, he blushed and quickly moved to put some distance between them, but his shuffling movements only caught both of their feet to tangle them up in one another's insteps. They collapsed on the wet cement of the sidewalk in front of the Hoover, a mess of limbs, Brennan's purse, and Booth's fedora. He grunted, and she gasped, particularly when they came to realize that Brennan had landed on top of Booth.

Looking up at her, Brennan felt her heart rate increase as she looked down into his warm brown eyes.

"Booth?" she breathed, tilting her head as she saw him looking at her in a way he hadn't looked at her in a long, long time.

"Yeah, Bones?" he replied after swallowing once since his throat had become inexplicably dry in the preceding moment. He squirmed against the pavement, glad in that moment that she had fallen such that she was leaning mostly againat his hip and thigh and not laying directly on top of him.

"Why were you wearing that hat?" Brennan asked, shifting her balance so that the center of her mass brushed briefly against the front of him. Without hesitating or skipping a beat, she tilted her head to one side, and politely waited for an answer, even though her question had been the last one that Booth ever could've anticipated her asking him.

"Uhhh, what?" Booth coughed, the tips of his ears reddening as he at once savored and recoiled at the feeling of her body pressing against his and realized that, if she was going to notice the source of his discomfort, she would have already. He cleared his throat and his forehead creased as she struggled to use her arms to lift herself away from him.

"Your hat?" Brennan said as she lifted her chin slightly in the direction of where the hat had fallen. "Why were you wearing a fedora? I know you occasionally wear other hats, but I don't think I've ever seen you wear one of those, and I was just wondering why tonight was any different?"

Booth saw her deliciously pink lips move, and felt his groin tighten as his mind only registered every third word she had said. When she'd stopped talking, the general gist of her question finally penetrated the fuzzy haze that had suddenly wrapped itself around his head.

"Oh," he said sheepishly. "The hat? I, uhh...well, see, uhh...I sorta got blackmailed into doing this thing today with a couple of the other SAs who were doing a public outreach thing for the Bureau for the one of the middle schools here in D.C. We had to do this spiel about the history of the G-man, and the other guys thought the hats would give our talk some extra pop, so I told them I'd wear it for the presentation—"

Booth didn't get a chance to finish his sentence when Brennan suddenly leaned over, pressing her chest against his, and reached out for his lips with hers. She wasn't certain what his response would be, but when his lips found hers, and, after a second of hesitation, his mouth opened to meet her kiss, she decided she needed to send a personal thank-you note to the other two agents who'd made Booth wear the fedora...and, then, she'd buy him at least six more so that he had one to wear on each day of the week as long as each day turned out like this one had unexpectedly.

The moment he felt her lips press against his, Booth felt a gush of warmth surge through his chest and his hands suddenly left the cool, wet pavement and swept up to cup her face between them. He felt her tongue sweep into his mouth and he closed his eyes, pulling away slightly as her tongue chased his, drawing him back into her kiss as she murmured into his open mouth. The moment he tasted her, the warmth that had spread through his chest flashed again, and he felt his skin flush hot as he pushed her face away from his just enough to allow him the space to reach for her lips with his own grasping kiss, sighing as he felt her warm, sweet tongue twirl to meet his. As she sucked on his lower lip, he felt a raw, wonderfully pleasurable tingle in his lower back and couldn't help but thrust his hips up against hers.

When they at last pulled apart, Booth broke out into a crooked smile as he gave her a dazed, if slightly goofy look. Smacking his lips, he asked, "Bones?"

"Yes, Booth?"

"I take it that means you like the fedora?" he asked her with a cocky, lopsided grin.

Leaning back a little before she resumed their kiss, she answered by way of a slight smile and a nod.

"Hmmmm," Booth murmured, pulling her face to his again. "Duly noted," he snickered, then reached for her bee-stung lips again, closing his eyes as he let himself drown in the warm, silky feel of her mouth on his.

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**A/N: **_That's right, people. We're a constant surprise. And you thought the two of us writing together couldn't write something less than 10,000 words. Well, we can. And we did. And we're gonna do it again. Next up: suspenders. Yes, that's right. The very word brings up all kinds of mental pictures of epic unfness. Or, maybe it's just us._

_Let us know what you think. Since ordinarily you'd still be only 1/4 the way through our chapter, you can invest some of that extra time into leaving a review. Pretty please? *blinks prettily*_

_Pretty, pretty please? You do wanna read about the suspenders, don't ya? *wink*_

_Thanks in advance! We love you guys and appreciate your readership._


	2. Suspenders

**Accessories of Epic Hotness**

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**By:** Lesera128 & dharmamonkey

**Rated: **M

**Disclaimer: **Is anyone still reading these things? Of course, we include one with every story, more to amuse ourselves than anything. But, just in case anyone else gets a kick out of our pithy witticisms, here goes. Prepare for an excited utterance: WE OWN NOTHING. We still wish we did. We suspect many of our readers still wish we did, too. But, alas, we're just poor paupers who jacked you know who's _Bones _sandbox. Heh. So there.

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**A/N: **_We're back, baby, with another short one-shot (yes, you read that right—_**short**_) to prove that the first one was not a fluke. And to trot out a few more of our _*cough*_ Boothy fetishes. Foremost among them, Booth's nibble-worthy shoulders and how freakin' fine those shoulders look in suspenders. Enjoy!_

**Unf Alert: **_Yep, this time, it's not just alluded to, hinted at or tucked behind a literary fade to black. There's unfness of the very unf variety. You don't wanna read that stuff, or shouldn't be? Better turn back now, because where we go, unfness usually follows._

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**Chapter 2 - Suspenders**

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**Logistical Note: **_Set during episode 2x8 ("Woman in the Sand")_

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Brennan stepped out of the bathroom in a knee-length, ballet-necked—a type of modified slim scooped neck—black dress with wide, billowy three-quarter length sleeves. "Hey, what do you think?" she asked.

Booth was fastening his sock garters when he heard her open the door. He smoothed his pant leg and and looked up at her, blinking as he said, "I have enough Bibles, thank you, but try next door."

She tilted her head at him as she shot him a look of annoyance. "You said I could be a school teacher," she said, her voice cracking a bit at the edges as her brow furrowed slightly in frustration.

He raised his eyebrows, creasing his brow as he stared at her incredulously. "Not the spinster kind who lives with her sister," he said, "but ya know, the hot one who makes the boys crazy." Booth walked over to the bed and picked up the burgundy plastic garment bag draped over edge of the mattress before handing the dress to her. "Here. Put on the one that I picked out, alright?"

"Okay," she said, her voice edged with annoyance, as she capitulated. "But don't be so bossy." She frowned and walked back into the bathroom, closing the door sharply behind her.

Booth turned to the mirror and pulled his suspenders over his shoulders, hesitating for a second as he looked at himself in the mirror. He'd always enjoyed the slacks, suspenders, and a wifebeater T-shirt look—possibly a holdover from the years he spent as a boy reading Dick Tracy comics and as a teenager reading detective novels by James M. Cain and Jim Thompson—and what better occasion could there be to have a bit of noir dress-up than an undercover assignment in Vegas? He shrugged into his white guayabera shirt as he listened to Brennan griping on the other side of the door about marriage being an archaic institution and how she didn't need a piece of paper to prove her commitment. Rolling his eyes, he pulled on his brown suit jacket and rolled his fedora in his hand as he stepped towards the mirror again.

"Like this?" Brennan said as she walked out of the bathroom, her steps tentative, almost wobbly, as she moved towards him with her hands out to her side.

Booth turned around and stared, transfixed by the sight of her in the slim-fitting black dress, her shapely shoulders set off perfectly by the spaghetti straps while his attention was instantly drawn to the low-cut neckline and bustier that accentuated the soft curves of her breasts and focused his eyes on the cleft between them. His mouth gaped open as he stared, unblinking, for several seconds before he regained the ability to speak.

"Yeah," he croaked. "Like that." He felt his ears redden as he felt a tingle of want at the base of his spine and a sharp tug low in his gut. Booth couldn't tear his eyes from the round swell of her breasts as they bulged ever so slightly over the firm band of black fabric that hemmed them into the snug-fitting dress. Suddenly aware that the blood was roaring so loudly in his ears that he wasn't sure if he would've heard her even if she'd actually said something to him, he blinked a couple of times distractedly before he then raised his gaze to meet hers.

As soon as she saw his warm brown eyes flicker and darken as their eyes met, Brennan felt her cheeks flush with warmth and her stomach flip-flop.

"Bones," Booth murmured as he let his eyes slip from hers and dip lower, drinking in the sight of her as he felt himself harden. He allowed himself another second or two to skim her smooth, slender legs with his eyes, wiggling away the tingle in his fingertips as he followed the long line of her legs drawn out even longer by the the pointed toes of her three-inch heels. Shifting his jaw from one side to the other as his mind raced with a blur of a hundred thoughts, each of which he swiftly jettisoned except for one: the thought that, however amazing she looked in that dress, he was quite sure she'd look―and feel―even more incredible when she was actually out of it.

Warm brown eyes met cool blue ones, and for several long, seemingly interminable moments, neither one of them moved, a fragile silence hanging in the air between them. The voice in Booth's head that normally warned him away from temptations was surprisingly quiet, drowned out by the roaring sound of blood in his ears as the aching in his chest and the aching in his groin seemed to throb in unison. He blinked, maintaining eye contact with her, as his mind skirmished with itself. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Booth heard a murmur, but he saw the cold fire burning in his partner's pale eyes and tried to blink away the thought as he took a step towards her, then hesitated again.

He remembered the argument he'd had with Brennan's boss, Cam, a couple of weeks before and how she had hastily dressed before storming out of Booth's apartment, slamming the door behind her as she'd gone when he'd hedged again at attending a public function as her official 'date.' Cam, usually a fairly level-headed individual, had called him the next day and said maybe they should think about where things were (or weren't, as it really was more accurate to say) going between them. When he'd seen her at the Jeffersonian on the day before last when he'd picked up Brennan at the lab, she'd told him that maybe keeping things casual wasn't going to be as easy for her to do as she'd thought, and that if it was okay with him, she was going to go out with one of her friend's brothers who'd been wanting to ask her out. He'd nodded silently, wondering how he could've stumbled out of his friends-with-benefits arrangement with Cam just as haphazardly as he'd originally stumbled into it when he'd been on the rebound from his latest tussle with Rebecca a couple of months earlier.

Quickly, all thoughts of any other woman but Brennan were pushed out of his head when Brennan's eyes flashed as she stepped towards him and he jerked himself out of the self-imposed silence of his own thoughts.

"Bones," he whispered as he stood there, his hands shaking lightly as he watched her approach as if in slow-motion. "What are you doing?"

Brennan stared deeply into her partner's brown eyes, which seemed to have darkened in the seconds since she had emerged from the bathroom. Those eyes twinkled back at her, dark as pitch but alight with a flicker that she knew meant he found her desirable.

"Nothing," she said with a small smile tugging at the edge of her lips as she looked away from him. "Nothing at all."

She broke eye contact with him as her eyes dropped from his face to his neck, tracing over the round lines of his muscular shoulders and down to his chest, the sculpted shapes of which were hinted at beneath the white guayabera shirt he wore over his tank-style T-shirt. She let her eyes skim along the edge of his biceps and over his hard, lean forearms to his large, strong, thick-veined hands, then looked up again, bypassing his flickering eyes and letting her gaze fall on the dark brown felt fedora he wore on his head.

Closing the distance between them, Brennan cocked her head to one side and smirked, then reached up and grabbed the hat, holding it and turning it over in her hand once before throwing it carelessly to the side. A low growl rumbled in Booth's throat as his eyes drilled into hers, his breaths coming harder and faster with each passing second as his heart began to race. Emboldened by his response, she closed her fingers around the lapels of his dark brown suit jacket, caressing her fingers down the full length of the lapels as she leaned in close, her nostrils filling with the menthol scent of his shaving cream and the sandalwood fragrance of his aftershave.

"Bones," he whispered again, his mouth hanging open as he watched her every move expectantly.

Narrowing her eyes for a fleeting second as if judging the best course of action, she quickly hooked her thumbs over the inside edge of his jacket, catching the fabric of his guayabera shirt and slid both garments off his shoulders in single movement. Swallowing hard, Booth shrugged his arms out of them as they fell to the floor in a scarcely-audible _ffffpt _sound.

"Tell me you want me to stop," she ordered him.

Slowly, he shook his head. "No way," he told her.

Brennan took a step back and surveyed him, her teeth shining in a half-grin as she took in the sight of him, now clad only in his white, tank-style T-shirt, a pair of black and gray suspenders, and his brown trousers. Her eyes traced over the lines of his torso: along the top of his well-developed shoulders, over the round edge of his deltoid muscle to the point where the triangular muscle tucked in between his hard, bulging biceps and triceps muscles and attached to the humerus, down his forearm and back up again to the bit of his armpit that was visible where the T-shirt's hem curved in towards the round, firm shape of Booth's pectoral muscles. As she drank in the sight of him, she felt a warm stirring between her legs, and her pulse quickened. She wanted him. She wanted him badly. She wanted him _very _badly. The muscular curves of his chest, neck and shoulders contrasted starkly against the straight line of his suspenders as they ran down from the middle of his shoulder, over the outside of his chest and flat belly to his narrow waist. The way the suspenders bisected the line of his shoulder made his meaty deltoids look even rounder, fuller and harder than they had looked just minutes earlier when he'd been standing there, his suspenders hanging from the waistband of his trousers as he'd stood in front of the mirror when she stepped out of the bathroom wearing the first dress.

"You have no idea," Brennan said, her voice low and husky as she stepped forward again, sliding her thumbs underneath his suspenders and drew them up the side of his chest as she turned her hands and fanned them over his round, hard shoulders. "You have no damn idea how fucking good you look in suspenders."

Booth leaned his head back, swallowing hard at feeling her warm hands caress his skin. "You think I don't?" he croaked as he let out a breath that he hadn't realized he was holding. "Why do you think I wore 'em then, huh?" he asked, his Adam's apple dipping low in his throat as he swallowed again.

Brennan rolled her jaw from one side to the other as she felt a pulse of wetness herald her quickly-mounting arousal. She narrowed her eyes again and considered responding, but as her body spoke to her, she knew she had ventured into a space beyond words. Taking a deep breath, she held his suspenders between her thumbs and forefingers as she pulled them away from his chest and stroked the stiff fabric as she slid her fingers from the top of his shoulders to the waistband of his brown wool trousers, letting her hands finger at his waist, her knuckles brushing over the external oblique muscles of his abdomen for a moment, before she slid her hands up again to his shoulders, causing Booth to suck in a sharp breath between his teeth as the backs of her fingers caressed his belly and chest on their way up.

"_Nnnnggth,_" he sighed, his eyes locked into hers as he felt her hands cup his shoulders at the very moment she slid his suspenders off his shoulders and let them fall carelessly against the sides of his thighs.

"Do you have any idea how badly I want to do this?" she rasped, palming the sides of his arms as her hands once more slid down to his waist and tugged his undershirt out from the waistband of his trousers. "Do you?" she demanded as her fingers skimmed over his belly, grazing his navel as they came to rest at the button of his trousers.

Booth grunted, glancing down and seeing her fingers toy with the button. "If it's one-tenth of how much I want you to do this," he growled. "Then you're probably damn near out of your fucking mind." The moment the words 'fucking mind' left his lips, her brow furrowed and her fingers plucked open the button.

"I am," she muttered as she raised her eyes to meet his, quickly unzipping his trousers by feel alone. They held one another's gaze for a couple of seconds, their nostrils flaring as their respective minds shut down, abdicating control in favor of raw impulse and desire. "Completely and totally."

Booth's jaw hardened as he took a deep breath, his nose filling with the smell of her perfume with its heady floral overtones and earthy, gut-tightening undertones of musk. The moment he heard his zipper _rrriiippp, _he sucked in a sharp breath between his teeth and jerked his hips into hers as her hands dove under the waistband of his boxers, sliding them and his trousers off his hips. A faint smile flashed across her face as she saw his rigid cock bounce free, leaving no question as to how much he wanted her. His heart pounded in his chest and the blood roared in his ears as he batted her hands away, another low growl reverberating in his chest as he brought his hands to rest on the swell of her hips. He squeezed the springy flesh of her hips a couple of times as his eyes fell to her chest, his gaze fixed on the cleft between her breasts where he swore he could see her skin glistening with sweat as it moved, rising and falling with each of her heaving breaths.

"Booth," she sighed, his eyes suddenly swiveling up to meet hers once more.

No sooner had something flickered behind his dark eyes that made her breath catch in her throat than his fingers pressed harder into her hips and he leaned in, crushing his lips against hers with a searing kiss. She felt his tongue swipe along the line between her slender lips and, after a moment of hesitation, she opened her mouth to him. She murmured into his kiss as she felt his tongue surge into her mouth and twirl against her tongue, and she felt a warmth spreading through her belly as she savored the sweet, minty taste of his kiss. Brennan felt herself drowning in the kiss, her mind spinning as her lungs burned for lack of oxygen. With a frustrated grunt, she broke off the kiss, gasping for breath before she leaned into him, grasping for his mouth with her lips. But Booth turned his head slightly, shaking his head with a growl as he squeezed her hips once more, then twirled her around, pushing her towards the nearby wall as he followed fast on her heels.

"Booth," she muttered again as she saw his coal-black eyes glimmer with want as he pressed her into the wall with a thrust of his hips. "God, Booth," she breathed as she felt him lift up the hem of her dress and paw at her lace-edged panties. His brows knit hard over his eyes as he yanked her black lace panties off her curvy hips and slid them down her cream-colored thighs.

"Ohhh," he groaned at the sight of her auburn curls glistening in the warm light of the hotel room. Booth took a half step back and shoved his trousers down, letting them pool around his ankles, then stepped forward again as he reached down and hooked his hand under her knee, lifting her left leg as he leaned in and covered her mouth with his kiss.

Brennan's lips grasped hungrily at his mouth as she felt the swollen tip of his cock swipe along the length of her sex. She pressed her tongue into his mouth as she felt him lean into her, pulling his mouth from hers as he took a breath at the very moment he entered her with a single stroke, jerking up and into her with a grunt, hesitating for a moment before he withdrew and drove into her again.

"Oh, fuck," he sighed as he rolled his hips back, then drove into her with a low growl. "You feel so fuckin' good. Oh my God..._fuck_..."

Brennan reached around and grabbed his ass, as if in so doing she could pull him even deeper into her. She craned her head back and gasped as he started to move even faster, jerking himself harder and sending himself even deeper into her. She gave the globes of his muscular ass a firm squeeze that made her sigh with contentment since she was finally getting to do something she'd wanted to do for a very long time, and she then slid her hands around to his waist and up the sides of his chest, finally coming to rest on the round edges of his muscular shoulders.

"Oh God, Booth," she moaned as she felt him fill her completely, stretching her with each firm upward thrust. She closed her fingers around the firm flesh of his powerful shoulders and stroked her thumbs over his sweat-dotted skin, feeling his sinews twitch beneath her fingers. With each thrust, his pelvis would grind against her most sensitive flesh, and after a minute, she felt herself begin to fall into a flat spin, rapidly spiraling towards release with each of his grunting thrusts.

"So...good," he groaned, holding her leg up by the crook of his elbow. His balls tightened and he felt himself swell as if his body sought to take up every bit of slack her body had to give. "Jesus, Bones, you're fucking amazing...so good. So damn good." Knowing he was spending towards a thundering release, he reached his free hand down to the tight bud of slippery flesh just above where their bodies met and he began to roll tight circles with his thumb. He heard her gasp sharply, and he smiled as her mouth fell open, her blue eyes rolling back into their sockets as her eyelids fluttered closed.

"Ohhhh," she moaned. "Ohhhh, _fuck, _Booth...ohhhh...oooohhh...ohhh, fuck!"

"That's right," he whispered, bending his head down and letting his lips brush against the edge of her jaw, right in front of her ear. "You're close. I can feel it. So, come on, Bones. Come for me, baby..."

He pressed his thumb even more feverishly over her clit as he saw her crane her head back again and a loud, long sigh escaped from her lips. He drew his hips back and jerked into her as hard and as deep as he could as he felt her shudder against him, her moist flesh clenching hard around him and then releasing him in a trembling wave of flutters. The moment he felt her relax around him, he broke, letting go with a long sigh of his own as his release flooded her moist heat.

"Ohh fuck, Bones," he groaned as the last pulses of his release faded and he opened his eyes. A smile cracked his face as he saw her eyes flutter open again, her pale blue-green eyes darker than he'd ever seen before and her face deeply flushed in the wake of her orgasm.

For a minute, they stood there against the hotel room wall, their heaving breaths slowly returning to normal as they gazed, open-mouthed and silent, into one another's eyes. After a long span of silence that was punctuated only by the sound of their breathing, Booth released her leg from his grasp and took a step back, wincing slightly as he slipped out of her.

"Booth," she said in a low, breathy voice.

"Yeah?" he rasped, shaking his head as if to chase away his post-orgasmic daze.

She chuckled, gave him a lazy, contented half-grin, then said, "You should wear suspenders more often."

* * *

**A/N2: **_That's right, people. We're a constant surprise. We did it once, and we can do it again._

_So, did you like that? Our heroes seem happy. _

_Next up: sunglasses. Now you'll be wondering whose. Well, you'll just have to wait to find out. But not too long._

_In the meantime, let us know what you think. Since ordinarily you'd still be only 1/4 the way through our chapter, you can invest some of that extra time into leaving a review. Pretty please? *blinks prettily*_

_Pretty, pretty please? We gave you the suspenders smut, didn't we?_

_Thanks in advance! We love you guys and appreciate your readership._


	3. Sunglasses

**Accessories of Epic Hotness **

* * *

**By: **dharmamonkey & Lesera128

**Rated:** M

**Disclaimer: **_Is anyone still reading these things? Of course, we include one with every story, more to amuse ourselves than anything. But, just in case anyone else gets a kick out of our pithy witticisms, here goes. Prepare for an excited utterance: WE OWN NOTHING. We still wish we did. We suspect many of our readers still wish we did, too. But, alas, we're just poor paupers who jacked you know who's Bones sandbox. Heh. So there. _

* * *

**A/N:** _We're back, baby! Our muses have finally kicked into turbo the last few days, so while we're still trying to finish up the next installment of "_**Echoes True and False**_" in our Angel/Bones series (that crossover thing gets kinda complicated, especially with all the interwoven canon plotlines and all those pesky flashbacks—what were we thinking?), we decided to dust off this lovely series and lay a new "Accessories" ditty on you fine people. So, without further ado, enjoy, our good readers, enjoy._

**UNF Alert: **_Well, yes, we should warn you that this wee oneshot may get a little steamy. Not overly so, lest we cause any undue distress to readers gestating multiple fetuses, people recovering from minor dental surgery or those who are suffering the affects of the late summer heat in the southern latitudes of the Northern Hemisphere. Further disclaimer: Dharmasera Inc. is not responsible for skyrocketing dry cleaning bills as a result of the reading of any story we produce. (Your bodily fluids are your responsibility.) If the foregoing wasn't clear enough, let us be even clearer: if you don't like reading about steamy stuff, or are young enough that you shouldn't be, do us all a favor and find something else to read. All others, please proceed with due haste._

* * *

**Chapter 3 - Sunglasses**

* * *

It was a well-known fact that Special Agent Seeley Booth was just a normal, everyday, average Joe, what-you-see-is-what-you-get type of guy.

He made no bones about the fact that he'd just as soon stock his refrigerator with cans of Pabst Blue Ribbon beer instead of bottles of Yuengling. He took pride in the fact that he bought most of his clothing at Target, including his undershirts, boxers, and striped socks. And he saw no reason to spend extra money for name brand foods (with a few notable exceptions, including Dunkin Donuts coffee and Pringles), when the store's generic brands tasted just as good to him.

Yes, it appeared that Booth had the 'blue-collar guy from the streets of South Philly' thing down to a tee.

But, that carefully-cultivated image only went so far...especially for people who knew him...especially for someone who knew him as well as Dr. Temperance Brennan did.

For example, Brennan was one of the few people who knew that while Booth bought a substantial amount of his clothing at Target, that didn't include his dress shirts, ties, or suits. Those, he only grudgingly bought off the rack if he had to at Macys. Usually, he much preferred to special order his shirts and ties from the Lands End website and had his suits custom tailored by a little old Korean woman named Ming Na whose shop sat at the edge of D.C.'s Chinatown and was one of the Bureau's best kept secrets for where to go if a guy wanted to look the part of a classic G-man.

Booth also was quite the snob when it came to certain cosmetics. His selection of shaving creams, aftershaves, and hair gels rivaled even Brennan's daily ritual when she got dressed, and that included when she put on her makeup. Even more importantly, despite the fact that he took a significant amount of pleasure for cracking on Brennan about her Rolex watches and the silver Mercedes car she drove on occasion when she wanted to break up the monotony of driving her Prius, Booth himself was a designer accessory snob.

Case in point: he owned a pair of black Ray-Ban sunglasses.

That particular fact had always galled Brennan. After all, what was a so-called average joe doing wearing a pair of $300 non-prescription sunglasses? In keeping with the carefully-crafted image Booth had woven together over the years, it seemed more appropriate that he would be sporting—at most, and only if he was feeling frivolous—a $9.99 pair off of the rack from Target's accessory department. And, yet, as she finished her cursory examination of a set of partially skeletonized remains that had washed up along the shores of the Potomac at Fort Washington Park in Virginia, Booth stared impatiently down at her crouched form, looking down his nose at her over the lenses of said $300 pair of black Ray-Ban sunglasses with dark gray polarized lenses.

Yes, such hypocrisy annoyed Brennan. It annoyed Brennan a lot.

And, more importantly, on this particular day, she decided she was so annoyed that she was finally determined to do something about it.

Thus, as was usually the case when Dr. Temperance Brennan set her mind to something, Special Agent Seeley J. Booth never even knew what hit him.

One minute, everything seemed fine.

It was a beautiful spring morning, with just enough breeze coming off the river that it was cool without being unpleasant. Given how early in the morning it was, and the fact that there were no civilians around for him to interview but for one NPS ranger that had found the body, Booth had felt he could get away with being a bit more casual than usual. He'd left his black pinstripe suit jacket in his SUV, unbuttoned and rolled up the sleeves on his light blue Oxford dress shirt, and kept his sunglasses on as the bright rays of the rising sun promised to get too frigging bright for his own comfort. Brennan had been a bit more quiet than usual on the forty minute ride from her apartment in Georgetown out into Prince George's County in Maryland by way of the Outer Beltway. But, it hadn't bothered Booth who'd just amused himself by listening to a morning show recap of the the first week of spring training games in the Florida-based Grapefruit League and the Arizona-based Cactus League. By the time they got to the crime scene, his partner's unusual silence continued, but she remained professional and all seemed normal on the front of how she processed the crime scene. It was only after an hour had passed, and she'd let him know that she'd completed all the preliminary work that she could at the site, that Booth realized anything had changed.

The layout of the national park, home to the remnants of a historic masonry fort that had acted as a part of the defensive perimeter of Washington D.C. since the War of 1812 that loomed on a slightly distant bluff over them, had necessitated that Booth park his SUV some distance away from the other cars. It had been a half-mile hike downhill to reach the restricted part of the park where the body had been found near the lighthouse that helped navigators on the Potomac to keep from crashing into the Maryland side of the river. By the time they'd finished, the breeze off the river had disappeared, the sun was starting to make it more than slightly warm, and the uphill hike with all of her gear was making Brennan more cranky than she'd already been.

It wasn't like she hadn't tried to get the annoying fact that Booth was wearing sunglasses that were four times the cost of hers out of her head. Because, she had. She really had tried. But, when he'd continued to stare down at her, over the rim of the glasses, as she crouched over the remains, all her efforts became futile.

No, all she could picture was his handsome face smirking at her from behind the dark black sunglasses that hid his normally expressive warm brown eyes from her.

About half way back to the SUV, when Brennan decided she couldn't take it anymore, she abruptly dropped her equipment on the hard-packed dirt trail that they were climbing. Booth, who'd been a few steps ahead of her, turned around when he heard the dull _thud_ of her two bags hitting the dusty trail.

"What's wrong, Bones?" he asked, speaking the first words the partners had exchanged in almost twenty minutes.

Looking over at him, Brennan's face had taken on a slight scowl as she shook her head and finally voiced some of the annoyance she felt because of him. "I find I'm more than slightly irritated because of you, Booth."

An easy, if slightly self-effacing, smile broke out on Booth's face as he nodded at her and said indulgently, "Okay, Bones. Tell me what I did now."

Putting her hands on her hips, she tilted her head and said, "It's not anything you've done _recently_, Booth. As a matter of fact, it's something that you've been doing for a long, _long_ time now. However, I find that I have little patience to tolerate such things from you anymore."

Unable to help himself, since it was so rarely that Brennan got herself worked up into the tizzy it appeared she was tottering on the edge of falling into, Booth could only grin cockily as he replied, "Oh, really, Bones?" He took a playful step back towards her and then asked, "So, uhh, you gonna tell me what you don't want to put up with me about anymore or are you gonna make me play that guessing game you love, huh?"

Booth shoved his hands in his pockets and wiggled his heel in the dirt, staring at the ground for a moment before he laughed and looked up.

"You know," he said. "You do this to me. You throw out these impossibly vague questions and lob 'em at me, then give me this look like I'm some kind of epic dufus when I have no idea how to answer them because I don't know if you're asking about some sort of overarching philosophical point or looking for an animal, vegetable, mineral kind of answer. You drive me crazy with that, Bones."

Frowning again, and becoming even more annoyed that Booth seemed to be attempting to quite arrogantly usurp the moment of aggravation for himself and circumvent her own ire, clenched her hands by her sides. Her nostrils flared as her eyes narrowed, and she became even more frustrated when Booth hadn't even bothered to look up from the ground to notice her response. Letting out a sharp puff of breath from between her front teeth in what sounded like a sharp hiss, Brennan quickly closed the distance between them and jabbed her index finger hard into his chest.

"Don't you do that, Booth," she warned him. "This is not about you and your feelings at the moment, okay? This moment, right now, is all about _me_ and how fucking badly you piss me off sometimes, so quit trying to usurp it."

Booth reached up and scratched his head. "Wait a minute," he said, his eyebrows raised as he shook his head slightly. "What did I do? I wasn't even saying anything. I was just standing here. How can I have pissed you off?"

"You are such a hypocrite, Booth," Brennan snapped. "You know that? H-y-p-o-c-r-i-t-e. A word that's derived from—"

"Thanks, Bones," he snorted, interrupting her with a roll of his dark brown eyes. "But I know how to spell, mm'kay? I was born at night, but I wasn't born last night. And, I'm pretty good with Latin, okay? Altar boy, remember?"

"Yes, Booth," she said with a sharp laugh. "I recall your previous narrative recollections of your tenure as a sacramental attendant in your weekly religious rituals. But, in this particular instance, your training at the sacristy was incorrect because the word 'hypocrite' is derived from the Greek word _hupokritēs_ as in one who plays a part or _hupokrinein,_ a verb that means to feign, from _krinein_..."

Booth shrugged sheepishly. "Greek, Latin—close enough for government work, huh?" he said with a grin.

"I'm sure the members of the Hellenic culture versus the Romanii tribes would disagree," Brennan said with the critique sharp in her voice as she shook her head and stomped past him to reach the passenger's side of the SUV.

"Whatever, Bones," Booth said, his growing irritation making his voice edge higher as he followed after her with a muttered curse under his breath.

When she heard him mutter, his use of profanity only riled her up further and so Brennan chose to continue baiting him. "So much for that quality Pennsylvania public school education, let alone the rigors of that collegiate work of yours within the hallowed halls of University Park, huh, Booth?" she called over her shoulder. "Gooo Lions!"

"What?" he hissed, his heavy footfalls quickly closing the distance between them. "Don't go crapping on my college, okay? We can't all be fancy-schmancy Northwestern University, Ph.D. brainiacs, okay?" Booth reached up and adjusted his Ray-Bans as he rolled his eyes again. "Seriously, Bones," he said, taking a couple of more steps towards her as he cocked his head to one side, the humor fading from his lopsided grin. "Come on. What's your problem, huh? 'Cause I still don't know who crapped in your Fruit Loops this morning, but it's getting to be a bit tiresome."

Pursing her lips, Brennan finally replied in a sharp tone, "I told you, Booth. My problem is you."

"Great," he replied sarcastically. "That really narrows it down. Well ya know what, Bones? I'm a pretty frickin' simple guy. What ya see is what ya get, so why don't we narrow things down a bit so I can figure what what the fuck your problem is, hmmm?"

If Booth could've said any more perfectly inappropriate words that wouldn't have set her off further in that moment than he did, looking back later, Brennan wasn't sure what they were as she felt her anger burn brightly as he fingered his designer sunglasses. Gritting her teeth and reaching out with both her hands, she grabbed two fistfuls of the tailored Lands End special ordered dress Oxford shirt that he wore and pulled so hard the tails almost came out of his suit trousers. Brennan then proceeded to spin on her heels, using the element of surprise she had, and used all the momentum she had to slam Booth up against the rear passenger side door of the SUV. Before she could change her mind, she threw her body up against him and smashed her lips against his.

For a few moments, Booth didn't move his lips at all, so surprised was he by her sudden assault. After a couple of seconds, as he recovered enough to take a breath through his nose, his nostrils filled with the smell of her perfume, a subtle mixture of one of the two scents she wore, depending on the time of year. While Brennan normally favored a vanilla/amber scent in the fall and winter months, during the spring and summer, she preferred to wear a lighter and fresher white citrus scent that, combined with her sweat, tickled Booth's nostrils as he breathed it in deeply. He felt a raw tingle race up his spine as he felt all of his senses tingle in response to her. As he felt her lips move slightly against his, Booth took another breath, less because he needed the oxygen and more because he wanted to inhale another whiff of her intoxicating scent, then parted his lips and, at last, welcomed her kiss. As soon as he'd opened his mouth, he felt her tongue surge past his lips and glance against his own tongue, and he moaned at finally tasting her again after so long an absence.

Hearing him groan at her because of what she was doing to him, something almost primal fueled her actions and left no room for logical or rationality to retake control of the situation. Brennan leaned into the kiss, pressing her hips against his groin as she sought out his tongue with hers. For a moment, with the blood roaring in his ears and the ground seemingly beginning to spin beneath his feet, Booth reached for her hips and tried to push her away, but as he felt her tongue glance once more against his, he found himself relaxing into her grasping kiss despite his intention not to do so. A low hum sounded from deep in his throat as he found himself squeezing her hips reflexively, pulling his mouth away from hers just enough to moan her name quietly against her lips before she moved in again to swallow his murmurs in the sound of her own aggressive, sucking kiss. Again, she jerked her body against his, unable to resist a slight smile as she felt his arousal pressing against her through the thin summer-weight wool of his trousers.

She chuckled in the small space between their mouths as she felt him finally give in, opening his mouth wider as his tongue finally went on the offensive, sweeping across her lips and into her mouth as he closed his big, strong hands around her waist and pulled her body flush against his. Booth's eyes rolled back in his head as his hands began to migrate from her waist to the small of her back, hesitating there for a fleeting second before sliding down to palm her ass. He murmured into her mouth as he kissed her, his lips grasping hungrily for hers as his fingers curled slightly, his fingertips pressing into her flesh as he began to squeeze her ass.

Finally, after a long moment, Brennan found herself growing somewhat light-headed from lack of oxygen as she savored the taste of his mouth. She felt her nipples tightening in a delicious way underneath the smooth material of her sleek dark blue Jeffersonian jumpsuit that registered in her mind at the same moment she realized she was becoming aroused by their kissing. The jolt of pleasure she felt caused her to press her body more tightly against his, crushing her pert and round tits against his chest, causing another inadvertent grunt to escape Booth's lips before he finally managed to rasp a single word.

"Bones..." he murmured against their kiss.

When she heard him softly grunt her name―the name that he alone called her―combined with the increasing pressure she felt of his hard cock press into her thigh, it was enough to get rational thought to once again boot in her mental processes. However, it took a minute before her higher brain functions wrested control away from her limbic system. She continued to greedily seek out his lips as she swept his mouth one last time with her tongue, then reluctantly, she pulled away.

Gasping for breath, Brennan lifted her dark blue eyes, already heavily lidded from her want of him, and saw his eyes had blackened when he returned her gaze with an intense stare of inflamed want present in them.

"Why...did...you...do...that?" he rasped, his heart pounding so hard that he was afraid his ear drums might pop if such a thing was possible.

"I...don't...know..." Brennan choked out, knowing it was foolish to attempt to talk at the same time she was trying to push some much needed oxygen into her lungs. "I don't know why I kissed you. One minute, you were just so smug and sanctimonious in your designer sunglasses and then we were kissing―"

"No," he said, taking a step towards her as he leveled a questioning stare at her. "Not that. Why did you pull away?"

"Honestly?" Brennan said with a small sigh of frustration. "Because a small part of my brain realized we're in a national park and ostensibly still here in a professional capacity, you've obviously just gotten a hard-on from our impromptu public display of foreplay, and once I felt I was getting wet because of the way you were kissing me and touching me―"

As soon as he heard the word 'wet' pass from her lips, Booth's higher mental functions flickered and then just blacked out as his nostrils flared and his darkened eyes narrowed even further. A low, rumbling growl sounded from his throat and, keeping his hands firmly attached to her hips, he twirled them around and gently slammed her against the passenger side door.

"Fuck where we are," he muttered, tilting his head to the side as his lips hovered just fractions of an inch from hers. "I don't care where the fuck we are. You..." He gritted his teeth and swallowed hard, then shook his head very slightly as he brushed his lips against hers. "You're..." Frustrated by his inability to form a coherent thought as he felt her breath tickle his upper lip, he grunted and brought his hands up, skating his palms over the round curves of her breasts before arriving at the zipper at the top of her jumpsuit. He took a breath and, for a moment, hesitated as he brought his eyes up to meet hers.

Licking her lips, Brennan's pink tongue darted out of her mouth for a minute as she held his gaze. Then, giving him a lopsided grin, she said in a low voice, "Booth?"

"Whuh?" he grunted back, clearly more intent on focusing on her mouth and imagining what it could do to him than the actual words that were coming out of it.

"I think you're going to have to special order some more of these expensive dress Oxfords you love so much," Brennan said as she reached out and grabbed for the loosened shirt tails she'd pulled out of his pants earlier. "You know, the ones you don't buy at Target like you want everyone to think you do?"

"Why?" Booth asked, his brow furrowed in confusion.

Brennan didn't give a verbal response, but proceeded to answer by viciously ripping his shirt open from the bottom up. Small clear buttons went flying, scattering in all directions as she tore his shirt open and then moved in to kiss him again pausing only for a beat before she did so..

"That's why," she said with a husky laugh as she slipped her hands under his T-shirt. Her fingertips ghosted over the smooth skin of his abdomen, skimming over the curves that marked his well-defined rectus abdominus muscles before she traced one of her thumbs around the rim of his firm navel. She grinned as she felt his muscles tighten beneath her fingers and heard him suck in a sharp, quick breath between his teeth at the sensation.

"Oh, God," he moaned as he craned his head back and let the searing sense of pleasure he felt at her touch overwhelm his senses.

"Mmmmm..." was her only response as she then pressed herself up against him and took Booth's advice as she forgot anything and everything but him in that moment. "Indeed."

* * *

**A/N2: **_"What? You freakin' people stopped it there?" Yep, we sure did. Don't hate us. It was still pretty hot, right? And maybe we'll nail a line drive RBI double to bring the runner home in the next chapter. (Apologies to our non-baseball oriented European readers. Sorry. We love baseball. We are what we are, LOL.) That is, maybe there'll be UNF of the most epic kind in the next chapter. We'll have to see... *wink*_

_Ah, yes. The next one. The first three "Accessories" have all involved things Booth wears that set Brennan off. Well, it's time to even things up a bit. The next accessory will be a Brennan item that sets Booth off in a very real way. Next in the queue is "_**Earrings**_**.**" Chew on that one for a while... *waggles eyebrows*_

_In the meantime, let us know how we did. Please take a moment to leave us a review in that very conveniently-located little review box below. If you're not logged into FFnet and want us to know who you are when you review, sign your name to it. Otherwise, we may be left wondering where to send flowers... __;-)_

_As always, thanks for reading. You guys are great._


	4. Earrings

**Accessories of Epic Hotness**

* * *

**By:** dharmamonkey & Lesera128  
**Rated: **M  
**Disclaimer: **Is anyone still reading these things? Of course, we include one with every story, more to amuse ourselves than anything. But, just in case anyone else gets a kick out of our pithy witticisms, here goes. Prepare for an excited utterance: WE OWN NOTHING. We still wish we did. We suspect many of our readers still wish we did, too. But, alas, we're just poor paupers who jacked you know who's _Bones _sandbox. Heh. So there.

* * *

**Chapter 4 - Earrings**

**A/N: **_The first three "Accessories" pieces dealt with items Booth wears that sets Brennan off. It was time to turn the tables and hit on an accessory worn by Brennan that sends Booth into orbit. Lots of choices here, but we went with earrings because...well, you'll see..._

**Logistical Note: **_This story is set sometime in Season 8._

**UNF Alert: **_You know what this is and why it's here. If you don't care to read about adults engaged in adult activities, or if your mom & dad would prefer you didn't, then it behooves you to find another story to read. This one will get a little toasty. For the rest of you, enjoy and __Happy Thanksgiving!_

* * *

Booth watched her all evening, just drinking in the sight of her as she moved around the hall, a glass of sweet Riesling in her hand as she smiled sweetly and chatted up various crispy-tuxedoed Jeffersonian donors that flocked to her. He kept a distance for most of the night, not because he felt out of place—even though he always did feel a touch off-kilter in these situations, surrounded by people he knew to be wealthier, more socially-connected, more prestigious, and who had more formal education than he did—but because he loved watching her hold court in the realm in which she alone reigned supreme. As the would-be donors listened to her regale them with stories of her fieldwork and teaching career, ostensibly hanging on to her every word while for professional curiosity, Booth could tell many of them were as awed by her stunning beauty as they were by her brilliance or her professional stature. He watched them as they watched her with wide eyes and insuppressible smiles hanging on their lips as she replied to each query in turn, her dark, finely-shaped eyebrow arched as she gestured with one hand and held her wine glass with the other.

Every so often, one of the would-be donors would ask what he assumed to be an especially well-informed or surprising question. Usually, when a reaction registered on Brennan's face for a beat before it was gone, the original querent would reach out, touching her arm as they spoke for some reason. Booth wasn't quite sure why they all seemed to do that. He wondered if maybe it was their way of making sure they held onto her attention. Another voice in his head gently reminded him that maybe not every person who asked her a question was touching her, and because he was sensitive about the whole thing, his mind was just exaggerating things. Still, whatever the reason, Booth couldn't help it as he felt a sharp flash of protectiveness. He wasn't sure how that emotion translated in his body language, but when he accidently caught Brennan's eyes, he could tell there must've been _some_ type of significant change. She registered his displeasure even as he unintentionally silently shifted his weight from one foot to the other, stood back at the corner of the open bar, and held his glass of Loch Lomond eighteen-year single malt scotch in front of his lips. In response, she gave a minute nod to him and then in a subtle, but still dignified way, pushed the offending arm away. Once the arm was back where it belonged, and she had reasserted her control of her personal space, she continued speaking as if nothing had ever been amiss.

_That's my girl, _he thought with a smirk. _You show 'em, Bones._

He noted with a smile how she would keep a space clear behind her, and he wondered if she was subconsciously protecting the space that he had long ago staked out as his territory alone: the small of her back. For years, he'd ushered her through doors, in and out of rooms, down hallways and gently, subtly pulled her closer by placing his hand there, barely touching her most times as his fingers ghosted just above the waistband of her slacks or skirt. He knew, even then, that she knew what he was doing—that there was too much anthropological symbolism, _blah, blah, blah_ for it to be purely innocent—but she never stopped him from doing it. Looking back, he was sure that, somewhere deep down, she knew all along that, whatever they were, they were more than 'just partners.'

Booth stood there for several long moments, just watching her, his eyes following the line of her slender arms up to her shoulders and along the arch of her cream-colored neck, and he remembered the night they had first gotten together, and how remarkable it had been. In so many ways, that one night in his bed had changed everything between them, but in another way, very little had changed. Making love to her was merely another incremental step in a long sequence steps they taken—sometimes together and sometimes individually. So it seemed that when they fell back onto his bed, his arms wrapped around her as she sobbed over the loss of her much loved intern—Vincent Nigel-Murray, murdered by a sniper's bullet that, but for the grace of God, had been meant for Booth—who had bled out on the floor of the lab, closing the last measure of distance between them was effortless. He remembered seeing her body for the first time when she'd let him peel off his old, stretched-out FBI sweatshirt and how the breath had caught in his throat at the sight of her porcelain skin, almost luminescent in the dim light of his bedroom as he reached for her, unable to resist the impulse to reach up and feel her taut rosy-hued nipples against the palms of his hands.

He blinked away the thought as her head slowly turned and her eyes once again swiveled to meet his. For a long moment—several seconds, at least—they looked at each other from across the room once again, and Booth felt a flutter in his belly when her serious expression brightened into a lovely smile that showed up on her beautiful face far too rarely as far as he was concerned.

It was only then that Booth realized that the after-dinner reception was finally winding down. He grinned broadly at the realization, and the grin widened on his face as he watched Brennan make her way across the room towards him. She wore her shiny auburn hair in a messy chignon, with a fringe of wispy curls around her face. She held her head high and smiled back at him sweetly as she resisted being pulled into another conversation as she snaked her way through the slowly-thinning crowd, shrugging as she said some sort of apology and indicated with a slight jerk of her chin towards where Booth was standing, waiting for her.

As she emerged from the simmering throng of people and approached him, Booth felt his senses fill with the awareness of her that was never completely gone from his heart or mind. For whatever reason, as she moved closer to him, it was the sound of her approach—the crisp, decisive click of her high heels on the wood floor of the reception hall—that struck him first. His eyes widened as he drank in the sight of her in her dark green dress with her delicate pale green amber wire necklace and matching earrings.

His gaze locked onto those earrings, entranced by the way their polished, marquise-cut sparkled under the room's chandeliered light as the tiny bubbles and imperfections in the citrine-hued resin caught the warm, angular glow from above, making her pale bluish-green eyes seem far greener than he'd ever seen them before, and by the way the green stones wobbled as she turned her head and the way the silver French loops hugged her earlobes so snugly. He felt his heart begin to race, pulsing in his throat as his breaths grew shallow, as he found himself unable to tear his eyes from her earlobes and the smooth crescent of soft, silky skin that surrounded them.

Booth licked his lips and felt a surge of heat crackle up his spine as Brennan's hand brushed across his cuff and palmed his hip. Her touch electrified him and made him shiver—just as it always had—but it was the sound of her voice, and the feel of her warm breath on his jaw, that took his own breath away.

"Hi, Booth," she said, her voice low but bright with the smile he knew she wore as it tugged gently at her bejeweled earlobes. "Have you been enjoying yourself?"

He swallowed, his Adam's apple dipping low in his throat as his brown eyes held hers. His mouth fell open but for several seconds, no words came out as his nostrils filled with the smell of her perfume and, beneath it, the undertone of her sweat, the scent of which had long since been burned into his sensory memory.

"Booth?" she inquired with a small tilt of her head.

"I'm ready to get out of here," he said to her, his voice a low rumble in his throat as he leaned in close to her, his lips brushing against the shell of her ear as his ragged breath streamed from his nostrils and tickled the wisps of hair that framed her temple. "Let's go."

She considered his words, a small look of confusion causing her brow to furrow. She then pulled away from him slightly, but gently squeezed his hip with her hand. "Is everything alright?" she asked him. "I mean, I know how you hate these kinds of events, but you seemed to be doing so well thus far, and I—"

"I wanna go home," he grumbled, shifting his weight from one foot to the other as he grabbed her wrist roughly. "Now."

The crinkles in her brow furrowed into a deeper set of lines, seeing the way his heavy jaw had suddenly hardened, his forehead creasing as he looked up at her expectantly, his lips pouting as he silently begged her.

"Okay," she agreed, tucking her dyed-to-match leather pocketbook under one arm, hooking her other arm around his as they made their way out towards the lobby. "Let's go," she finished even as Booth promptly presented the claim ticket to the valet.

A minute or two after they pulled away from the Arlington, Virginia hotel where the Jeffersonian foundation hosted its fundraiser, Booth turned to her and, making a scarcely-audible growling sound in his throat as his eyes scanned her face, pausing for a moment as the passing street lights sparkled against the tiny bubbles in her green amber earrings. He blinked, then brought his eyes back to the damp, glistening pavement in front of him.

"Are you cold?" he asked her, his voice a bit gruff as he focused on the road in front of them. "I can turn the heat on if you want."

"No, I'm fine," Brennan said, shaking her head and quietly waving off the question, puzzled by her normally loquacious partner's sudden descent into silence. She then paused and then added, "I mean, unless you want to...then you can. But, you don't need to do it for me."

Booth never took his eyes from the road, but grunted back, "No, I'm good."

After his single sentence, the pair lapsed into another bout of awkward silence. Trying to figure out what had caused the obvious shift in Booth's mood, and confused when an answer wasn't immediately obvious, Brennan fell back on her scientific skills of observation. For a couple of minutes, she simply watched him. His fingers were wrapped around the steering wheel, but would tighten, then loosen again before tightly curling around the wheel again. She watched his lips purse, rolling between his teeth as he sighed though flaring nostrils, then pout before he opened his mouth and took a slow breath, glancing quickly at her out of the corner of his eye before once more returning his gaze to the road.

After a few more moments, feeling her gaze weigh heavy on him, he swallowed, cleared his throat and asked quietly, his voice tight and choked, "Wanna turn on the radio?"

Somewhat startled by his abrupt question amid the near-silence that had blanketed them since they left the event, Brennan shook her head and turned once more to stare out the window. "No," she said, a vaguely plaintive tone in her voice. "That's fine." Taking a breath, she closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the headrest, unable to shake the feeling that he was angry with her. She opened her mouth to speak and considered apologizing for leaving him languishing at the bar during the last hour of the reception, but as she tried to form her statement into words, something about the way he looked, and the dangerous tension that radiated from him in waves, made her hold back. She closed her mouth and silently shrugged.

Booth made another low noise, something between a grunt and a growl, then narrowed his eyes as he focused on the roadway, his hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly she could see his knuckles whitening. Several more minutes went by and he scarcely looked at her.

They'd just crossed the Frances Scott Key Bridge when she finally decided she couldn't take any more of the tension and silence.

"Are you angry with me?" she asked, her eyebrows arched in uncertainty. She saw his masseter muscle clench, then loosen again in a cycle so quick it made his mandible appear to pulse beneath the pebbled, uneven skin of his jaw. "Did I do something wrong, Booth?" she said. "Offend you somehow, perhaps? Because if I did so, you have to know there was no intent on my part. It was purely accidental."

He closed his eyes for a moment and swallowed, then opened his eyes again. "No," he said. "You didn't offend me, Bones." Then he went quiet again.

The silence continued for another twenty minutes until they pulled into the driveway of their house. Even as they stepped out of the Sequoia and walked towards the door, Booth's communications were little more than mumbled groups of syllables and grunts as he reached into the pocket of his tuxedo to fish out his keys. Holding the keys in his hand, he turned and looked at her, the telltale tic in his jaw and a slight tremble in his hand signaling that the tension that had been roiling inside of him on the drive from Arlington had not abated. After a moment, a slow sigh rattled in his throat as he jerked the key into the lock and fumbled it open. His hand migrated to the small of her back—the first sustained physical contact between them since they'd walked out of the reception hall—as he pushed her through the door and closed it behind him with a sharp jab of his foot.

Frustrated by his behavior—and even more annoyed by her lack of ability to discern a reason for his change in mood—Brennan whirled around and tilted her head to the side. "You haven't said more than a couple dozen words to me since we left the fundraiser," she said. "And since we agreed we weren't going to be polite anymore, I want to know what's wrong."

Booth's rigid jaw opened and shifted from one side to the other as he took a step towards her, reaching out and grabbing her arms. He closed his hands around the smooth skin of her bare upper arms and twirled her around, pushing her into the back of the door. A deep, feral growl sounded low in his throat as he pressed his hips into hers. He opened his mouth to say something, his jaw opening and closing slightly as if he were trying to form words, but as his heart pounded in his chest and his blood roared in his ears, he couldn't formulate a coherent thought. With a grunt, he jerked his hip against her again and leaned in close, angling his head as he pressed his lips to hers.

"Booth," she breathed against his lips. "I..."

He pulled away slightly, rolling his jaw from side to side as his eyes—which had darkened from a warm chocolate to the color of molten pitch—stared into her pale, glittering greenish-blue ones. Again his mouth moved as if he were going to say something, but no words came out, and with another guttural growl, he mashed his mouth against hers again, sliding his tongue along the cleft between her lips to encourage her to accept his kiss. After a moment of hesitation and another thrust of his hip, which left no doubt in her mind as to how deeply aroused he was, Brennan opened her mouth to his eager tongue.

Booth's hands gripped her arms hard as he kissed her, his tongue surging into her sweet mouth as his lips grasped at hers. His chest filled at once with an aching warmth born of insatiable hunger and endless wonder at how this woman, this singular woman, could unwind him with just a single, simple gesture. Swiping his tongue across her teeth and lips as he pulled away from their kiss, he loosened his grip on her arms as he gasped for breath.

"Those earrings," he growled, licking his lips as his head bobbed slightly, leaning in again so that his lips came within fractions of an inch of touching hers again before he backed away again, his eyes darting between meeting hers with a dark, hungry stare and fixating again on the glittering green, marquise-cut earrings that dangled from her lobes.

He was about to lean in again and attack the tender spot just below her ear when he felt her hands slip under his tuxedo coat and slide it off his shoulders. Wriggling out of the rented coat and letting it fall to the floor, he swallowed as her fingers skimmed over his belly and down to the button-closure at the front of his trousers.

"Bones..." She nimbly thumbed open his trousers and was about to pull down his zipper when he batted her hands away. "You drive me fucking crazy, you know that?" he told her. "It's been everything I could do not to limp around all fucking night with a raging goddamn hard-on looking at you—" He reached for her hip and turned her around, pushing her gently into the door again. "I knew..." His chest rose and fell with heavy breaths as he felt his lips tingle at the sight of the back of her slender neck, so soft and delicate and kissable. "I knew if I so much as looked at you on the drive home, I'd have pulled that fucking car over and taken you right there in the backseat in some empty parking lot or alley somewhere."

Pressing a soft kiss to the nape of her neck, he let his hot breath tickle her skin as he reached for the zipper on the back of her forest green evening gown. He began to unzip her slowly, very slowly, as he leaned in, dragging his lower lip along the shell of her ear.

"The way you looked tonight..." He kissed the back of her ear softly, letting his tongue dart out and wet the delicate curve of cartilage. "Like one of those sexy-as-all-fuck Greek goddesses that you are always dragging me to see in the galleries that seem to be at every museum we ever go to—Jesus Christ, Bones. You are just so fucking hot...and more importantly, every man there tonight looked at you and wondered what it would be like to be with you. Seeing you with them, and them touching you..."

His lips migrated lower, brushing against the place where the flesh of her earlobe emerged from the base of her ear's long curve. He swallowed, a sharp tingle at the base of his spine making him shudder as his nose filled with the smell of her perfume and the unique scent that was hers alone.

"But I knew..." He opened his mouth and closed his lips around her earlobe, tasting the metallic flavor of her earwire faintly on his tongue.

"God, _Boooooothhhh_," she sighed as she tilted her head, exposing more of her neck to his mouth. He sucked on her earringed earlobe, murmuring with pleasure as his hands slipped the spaghetti-straps of her dress off her shapely shoulders and tugged the dress down her hips. Brennan sighed again, pressing her ass against his hardened groin, her own impatience growing with each pull he gave her earlobe. She felt herself drowning in his touch and didn't realize how quick he'd managed to undress her until she heard the faint _riiiip _of his own zipper.

"Those earrings..." He shoved his trousers and his boxer briefs off his hips in single movement, drawing a circle around the side of her earlobe with the point of his tongue. "The way...the light..." His fingers curled around the waistband of her black tanga panties, hesitating for a brief second before sliding them over the soft, warm round of her hips and down towards her knees. "Made your eyes so..." Booth pressed his knee between her thighs and parted them. "I've always loved your eyes..." His hand reached between her legs, his fingertips skimming along the damp curls that covered her cleft to confirm what he already knew. "Always loved those eyes..." His long, thick forefingers parted her folds as she groaned at the contact. "Always loved you—"

Brennan's head arched back as he slid into her, filling her with a sharp roll of his hips as he pulled his lips from her ear.

"Oh God, Booth," she gasped, sucking in a sharp breath as he began to move, his fingertips pressing hard into the flesh of her hips as he drove into her from behind, the rhythmic aggression with which he stroked into her below tempered by the gentle kisses his lips placed along the curve of her bare shoulder. "Fuck."

"All night," he murmured into her shoulder, grunting as he bottomed out inside of her, holding himself there for a long moment, savoring the feeling of filling her up, of possessing her, before he withdrew briefly and plunged back into her again. "All...all goddamn night..." A quiet growl sounded from him as his heavy balls smacked against the tender, white skin of her ass. "All goddamn night...watching you talk to all those hoity-toity losers...I kept reminding myself that I'd be the one taking you home...taking you like this..."

"Yes," she cried as he jerked into her, his fingers squeezing her hips hard enough that, somewhere in the dark recesses of her mind where rational thought still prevailed, she wondered if he'd leave bruises.

"The way you touched those earrings of yours," he sighed as he felt his balls tighten. "The ones _I _bought you."

"Yours," she whispered. She felt a wobble in her knees and let the door in front of her support her as the room around her began to spin with each of his driving strokes. "I'm yours," she said again, her voice firm even as she felt her limbs begin to shake, her body tensing, clenching hard around him as he acknowledged her words with a hard, possessive upward thrust that sent him as deeply inside of her as he could go. "Just harder, please. Fuck...I need...harder. _Please_."

"Mmmmm," he grunted, stroking his thumbs over the small of her back as he rocked into her, throwing his head back and moaning as he felt her shatter, every muscle in her body tensing before relaxing again as her silky folds quivered around him, seemingly begging to milk him as he, too, broke. "Mine...ohhh..._unnnnngggffffthhh_," he groaned as he stroked into her one last time, holding himself there with a long sigh as he emptied himself into her, his head dropping forward, his sweat-dotted forehead pressing against the back of her shoulder.

"Oh, fuck, Booth," Brennan mumbled after a minute as she struggled to catch her breath, opening her eyes and smirking at the realization that the sexual tension that had built up over the course of the evening had meant that they hadn't made it so much as five feet into their house before losing all control.

"But it was _so _worth it," Booth said with a snicker, as if he'd read her very mind. "Mmmm?" He pressed a soft kiss against the damp skin of her shoulder and smiled as he waited for her response.

"Definitely," she agreed, turning her head to the side with a wicked grin. "Although I will apparently have to think twice before wearing those earrings to work, won't I?"

He nipped at her earlobe with his teeth as the earring wobbled against his lower lip. "Mmmm," he murmured as he took her tender flesh between his lips and gave it one last, languid suck. "Definitely."

* * *

**A/N: **_Mmmmm. Definitely. So, how was that? Did you folks enjoy that? We sure did. (And so did our heroes, apparently.)_

_So, for our next trick...well, we aren't sure, actually. We have a big, long list of "Accessories" and we'll have to decide which one to do next. In the meantime, we're working on getting "A Would-Be Reunion" (the 8th story in Dharmasera's epic Angel/Bones crossover series) ready for prime-time. We also have a few more of those Angel/Bones crossover oneshots that will go up as part of our "Compendium" series. So there's more Dharmasera goodness on tap._

_In the meantime, let us know how we did with this one. Please take a moment to leave us a review in that very conveniently-located little review box below. If you're not logged into FFnet and want us to know who you are when you review, sign your name to it. Otherwise, we may be left wondering where to send flowers... ;-)_

_As always, thanks for reading. You guys really are great._


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